


Monophobia

by Corveille



Series: Phobias [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cat Owner Gavin Reed, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Food Poisoning, Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Gavin Reed Whump, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Good Friend Tina Chen, Protective Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Sickfic, Tolerant of Each Other to ???, Vomiting, yet again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corveille/pseuds/Corveille
Summary: A few weeks after their little drunken chit-chat at Hank's house, Connor seems to have made it his mission to try and get on Gavin's good side, much to Gavin's dismay.
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed
Series: Phobias [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1272116
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Monophobia

**Author's Note:**

> It's been 84 years....or one year and six months, more or less.
> 
> Anyone still out there following this series? :,D
> 
> Sorry about the long wait guys. To be honest I had this WIP gathering dust since last year, and only recently I found the will to pick it up again and actually work on it for more than a few minutes.  
> Coincidentally, this is happening around the time where tests are coming (why do I always find the motivation to write when I'm busy gdi.)
> 
> On the bright side, you get to see Connor and Gavin being lovable idiots again!

There’s a cup of coffee sitting on his desk when Gavin enters the bullpen.

He doesn’t notice it at first —being too busy looking at his phone. It’s not until he’s about to sit by his desk that his eyes set on the drink standing next to his terminal, and Gavin has the urge to smack his head against the table.

“Can’t fucking believe it.”

He side-eyes a certain RK800 prototype on the other side of the bullpen. The android, of course, doesn’t look back, keeping his eyes strictly on his own terminal.

Every morning—ever since that time at Hank’s house—there would be a hot cup waiting for him by the time he got to his office. Each time Gavin would disregard it and move on. Each fucking time there would be a new coffee the next day, waiting for him. Rinse, repeat, all throughout the week.

Toaster was fucking determined, Gavin could give him that.

Without looking back at the coffee offering, Gavin walks pass it and heads to the break room. He catches a glimpse of how Connor’s LED switches to yellow for a second as he leaves his desk behind.

He goes straight for the coffee machine. Petty as it might be, he needs his caffeine rush to function and is _not_ about to cave in and accept one from the tin-can.

He doesn't see there’s someone else in the room until a voice pipes in from behind him.

“Again?” Tina asks from her place in one of the tables near the entrance, before drinking from her own cup.

“Again,” Gavin says, getting lost in the low whirring coming of the old coffee machine as it brews.

“I’m surprised he’s tried for this long to be honest.” Tina shakes her head, looking over at Connor. “You do realize you are going to have to give in eventually.”

“I don’t have to do shit,” Gavin says and grabs the filled cup once he hears the familiar beep. He takes one long gulp of the hot beverage and approaches Tina’s table, but doesn’t take a seat. “It’s him who can’t take the hint, it’s fucking stupid. He’s stupid.”

“Uh-huh,” Tina hums through the edge of her drink.

Gavin scoffs in return and walks out of the break room, cup in hand. It isn’t long before he hears another set of footsteps following him. He falls into his seat once he reaches his desk and takes another sip. His legs automatically swing on top of the table as he gets comfortable on the chair.

Tina takes one long look at Gavin and sits at the edge of his desk.

“Get your ass off my desk.”

“Only if you take your feet off first.”

“Bitch,” he says and takes a drink of his coffee, “my office, my rules.”

“Quite the shitty ones,” she says but makes no move to get off. She eyes the lukewarm cup resting on Gavin’s terminal, reminding Gavin he still needs to trash that shit. “Still up for tonight?”

“You fucking know I am.” Gavin makes a move to take the coffee Connor gave him, but Tina snatches it before he can get to it.

“Tina…” he warns.

“What? I’m not letting you ruin a good coffee.”

“You already got one.”

“And now I’m getting another.” She downs the coffee and gets off the desk. “See you tonight, Gavin.”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Gavin whispers, watching Tina exit the bullpen. As he goes to work on his terminal, his eyes involuntarily drift to Connor’s desk.

To his surprise, the android’s looking away for the screen this time. His gaze set in the direction Tina disappeared into.

From this angle Gavin could swear Connor is frowning at her, looking at her like a kicked puppy. He can’t really confirm anything as Connor focuses back on work the moment he sees Gavin’s staring.

“Fucking weird Roomba,” Gavin says under his breath and reads through the first file on his screen.

* * *

Gavin wakes up to a pillow filled with sweat and the covers sticking to his body like a second skin in the early morning.

He thinks nothing of the pain on his forehead that intensifies as he tries to get up, at first. He’s prone to having small migraines caused by bad sleep. Gavin thinks it’s his body being a little shit because he went to sleep late last night.

It isn't until he heads to the bathroom sink to rinse himself the nauseous feeling kicks in. It forces him to purge his last dinner minutes after he’s brushed his teeth. His mouth burns with the taste of acid, and he spends the rest of his morning schedule dry heaving in front of the toilet, empty stomach curling in on itself.

By the time he has moved his sorry ass into the kitchen he can barely keep his legs from giving up on him.

Gavin fumbles forward as his head pulses again. His arms are the only thing supporting his weight against the counter-top, as the white marble feels like ice under the heat of his palms. He leans his head down to press it on the counter, hoping the cold sensation can bring him some relief.

“Fuck,” he mutters and bangs his head against the counter—pretty fucking stupid idea considering it only causes the pain to worsen.

“Fuck!”

A loud meow coming from below makes Gavin turn his head to glance down again. Slit eyes pin his with quite an impatient look instead of the usual blank one Gavin’s familiar with. Not that Gavin can blame her.

It was a routine for Ada to get food around this hour —it was the second thing Gavin did before heading out to work. Now, with about ten minutes left to get there, Gavin thinks he won’t make it to the cabinet on the other end before he throws up all over again.

“Sorry princess, few more minutes yeah?” he says with a shake in his voice and bends down slightly to run a hand through the cat’s back. His lips quiver up a bit when Ada arches her spine into the touch.

_‘A few more minutes’_ ends up being code for falling back into bed like a rag-doll after finding the stock of cat food.

Gavin lies there like a fucking corpse on an autopsy table with an ice pack on top of his forehead. The cold helps calm down the ache, but it is not enough to make him feel better. He wants nothing more than to sleep whatever this is off, but the clock by the bed reminds him of one last thing he needs to do. A thing that involves moving.

God, there are not enough words to describe how much Gavin doesn’t want to.

With a groan, Gavin sets the pack down and reaches with his arm under the bedside table, searching for his phone.

It’s already late for his shift and Fowler must already be bursting a vein just by wondering where the fuck he is. He ends the e-mail with a compromise to finish all the reports once he’s back and sends it, not bothering to wait for a reply.

Going by the symptoms he’s gotten so far, his best bet is on this shit being food poisoning. There’s only one thing he did last night that could have caused this that comes to mind.

He searches through his contact list.

**_Petty bitch at 10:23 AM_ **

_I’m never trusting you again, Chen_

**_Lesbian Queen at 10:26 AM_ **

_Oh last name basis, we are getting serious._

**_Petty bitch at 10:28 AM_ **

_your restaurant fucking food poisoned me u bitch_

**_Lesbian Queen at 10:30 AM_ **

_Really? Are you that weak to a bit of spice?_

_Dude that was light, you’ve seen nothing until you try the Sichuan’s._

_Where are you?_

**_Petty bitch at 10:33 AM_ **

_home, dying_

**_Lesbian Queen at 10:33 AM_ **

_Tragic._

_Can you feel me pressing F from there?_

**_Petty bitch at 10:35 AM_ **

_Tee I swear to fuck I’m revoking your cat sitting privileges._

**_Lesbian Queen at 10:36 AM_ **

_You wouldn’t dare. Ada loves me_

_and since I'm the only one willing to put up with you bs..._

_Need anything?_

**_Petty Bitch at 10:38 AM_ **

_what the hell do you think?_

**_Lesbian Queen at 10:40 AM_ **

_I’ll bring the pain killers and c.beans your way when I’m out._

Gavin scoffs at the screen before letting his phone drop on the mattress. His head hits his pillow seconds after, silently thanking Tina for being such a decent human being.

The bed dips next to Gavin as Ada jumps on it, done with her meal. She curls up against his side and eagerly prepares to take a nap, unbothered by the piss poor state her owner’s in. The little rascal.

With a sigh Gavin scratches behind Ada’s ear and listens to the soft purrs.

He rubs his sore eyelids one last time with his free hand, giving up on trying to do anything productive for now. He closes his eyes and gulps down the coughing fit building up in his throat—knowing full well it’ll come back to bite him in the ass once he wakes up again.

* * *

Well what would you know?

Not only did the coughing fit almost leave him with no voice on top of disrupting his beauty sleep. Not only did it startle him enough to scare Ada into scratching his arm hard enough to bleed, but it also brought some reinforcements with it. Particularly, a new headache that only got worse the more he tried to fight it.

Gavin wants nothing more than to die when he stares at the empty cabinet in his bathroom. Not a single tablet of painkillers that could have come very handy for this. Fuck the pain and fuck him, especially, for not buying those pills a week before.

At least he's got enough foresight to keep some peroxide around to treat his arm.

He snatches the bottle and swings the small door shut with enough force to make the mirror attached to it to shake—wouldn’t that be the icing of the cake, earning seven years of bad fucking luck on top of all this?

He goes back to his bedroom and fumbles with the drawers before dragging his feet into the study, determined to get _some_ work done.

Or, well, that’s what he fucking thinks.

Twenty minutes in and the light of his laptop makes his eyes sting, and the feel of someone stabbing him his head with needles intensifies. Blinking a few times, he powers down the screen and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He only remembers he’s wearing glasses when he knocks their frame upwards.

If it were up to him, he’d get rid of them for good, but the pulsing inside of his skull makes it almost impossible to concentrate. If the use of these can give some level of relief to his bloodshot eyes, then might as fucking well.

Gavin powers through another paragraph before a loud rumble distracts him away from the screen.

He reclines back into his chair and spins it around to get a better look at his window. The sight of the dark clouds turning the sky into a monochrome canvas greets him on the other side of the glass.

“Oh, that’s just fucking perfect isn’t it?” He grits out as he watches the sun disappear behind a large dark mass. His voice sounds small in the room.

By the time the storm hits, Gavin’s left at the mercy of the artificial light from both the computer and a cheap desk lamp. Ada’s curled up on his lap, not too thrilled with the thundering outside. Gavin runs his hand over her back, trying to calm her—and himself in a small way— down.

“Where are you Tee?” he mutters while giving a quick glance at the clock on the wall.

It’s been almost three hours since he texted Tina. She usually has her break around this time. Going by some quick math she should have been here about ten minutes ago. There are plenty of shops near his apartment to go around, hell, he would have gone buy medicine himself if moving didn’t feel like such a death sentence.

Gavin taps at his knee, doing a piss-poor job of hiding his impatience. He stares at the screen until it goes dark, all while counting the minutes.

The constant ticking of the clock does nothing but get on his nerves.

Running his hands through his hair in hopes of calming down turns out to be useless. He can feel the skin on his forehead getting warmer than that of his hands again and, as time goes on, he wonders if Tina will ever show up at all. Not like Ada can nanny him if he were to faint at the next second.

The sound of a soft knock thankfully breaks through his spiral of self-pity. He thinks he imagined it, at first, but when Ada jumps down and walks towards the door—meowing as the knocks grow louder and firmer—Gavin knows it’s the real deal.

“Coming,” he grits out, doing a good job of stopping relief from showing in his voice, and makes his way to the front door.

“Took you long enough Chen,” he says as he unlocks the chain and opens the door. Right away, his hand freezes on the handle and Gavin very quickly becomes aware of a few things.

Firstly, this person is not Tina.

Secondly, he _really_ should have looked through the peep-hole before opening the door.

And thirdly—and he fucking cannot express this enough—this person is not fucking Tina.

“Hello Detective Reed—” almost automatically, Gavin closes the door on Connor’s goofy face. He goes one step beyond and locks the chain in place for good measure, before dropping his back against the door.

“Detective?” Comes from the other side and honestly, does this android comes with a sixth sense to be around Gavin at the worst fucking times possible? This was getting ridiculous.

He feels the door vibrate as Connor decides to knock again.

“What the fuck are you here for?” Gavin groans out.

“Ah,” Connor says, like an idiot before pausing. Gavin hears the rustling of plastic coming from the other side. “Officer Chen asked me to come bring you some aspirin since you appear to be sick, correct?”

Asked him to _what?_

“Where is she?” Gavin turns around and glares at the door, mind going a mile per minute trying to think of a reason for Tina to not show up.

“She was scheduled to go on patrol and couldn’t come to bring you medicine. I had the rest of the afternoon free, so I volunteered in her stead.”

It takes a moment for those words to sink in, but when they do Gavin bangs his head against the door, cursing at Tina for saying yes to this asshole. Couldn’t she ask Chris? Ben? A fucking PC200 even.

“Are you all right?” Connor asks.

“Peachy.” Gavin cracks open the door, taking a hold of Ada before the little shit can run off into the hallway. He cradles the cat in one arm and glares at the android.

Connor gives him an awkward smile. He’s ditched the jacket and is just wearing a plain dress shirt. He’s holding a shopping bag in one hand and a drenched umbrella in the other. With a grunt, Gavin closes and unchains the door, before opening it again. He sees how Connor’s head light turns yellow the moment he’s in full view.

“I wasn’t aware you wore glasses.” Ah Fucking…

The last thing he wanted is for this tin-can to see him with some shitty glasses. Gavin rips the frame from behind his ear, folds them, and hides them in the pocket of his pants. He should have taken them off earlier, not like the thought would do any good at this point.

“I fucking don’t,” he retorts back, maybe too quickly, given how the android tilts his head at him.

He’s more than fucking ready to deny this to his dying breath, Connor _thankfully_ lets the topic drop before he has to.

“If you say so…” he drops the umbrella next to the door and just then notices the extra company. “Oh hello, you must be Ada,” Connor says with a chirp is his voice and leans forward.

Even though Gavin has half a mind to let the android get his hand scratched to pieces, he’d rather not risk the cat bolting. He takes a step back before Connor can bring a hand up to pet her.

“Yeah, yeah, you finally met my pussy. Now give me those so we can get this shit show over with,” he says and puts his hand out, palm up. Waiting.

Connor blinks a few times, focusing his attention back on Gavin. He stands there just…watches him, not saying a word. It creeps Gavin the fuck out if he’s honest.

“Ears not working or something Robocop?”

“You look… unwell.” Connor finally says and, well, that must be the politest way of saying _‘you look like shit’_ Gavin’s ever heard.

“You don’t say.”

Connor’s LED blinks a few times, going from yellow to blue and back again. By now Gavin just _knows_ that whatever this toaster’s thinking won’t end well for him.

“I could do a quick check to see what’s wrong.”

No, absolutely not. Fuck that.

“Connor, give me the bag.” Gavin makes a grab for it but the android is faster and moves back. Gavin can’t really do much unless he wants to lose grip of the fur-ball nestled against his chest.

“Tin-can—”

“I’ll give it to you after you let me run a scan.”

“Yeah, like when you tested me to see if I was drunk? I’ll have to give a hard fucking pass on that.”

He tries to take the bag again but Connor steps away from the door and out of reach.

“Fucking—just give me the fucking drugs already.” Gavin tried his fucking best not to raise his voice. The last thing he needs is a neighbor thinking he’s a corrupted cop.

“ _After_ I make sure it’s nothing serious,” Connor repeats.

“You stubborn little shit,” Gavin mutters as Connor hides the bag behind his back and glares at him.

“Says the man who constantly refused to go to the hospital even with the chance of a possible concussion.”

“It’s just a case of food poisoning, you drama queen; I’m not going to die because of it.”

“I still would like to stick around, just in case.”

For fuck’s sake—

“You know what? Fine, _fine.”_ Gavin rubs the bridge of his nose. “Go ahead and invade the sanctity of my home. Suit your-fucking-self.” If this is what he needs to get Connor to give him painkillers, then so be it. Whatever. Not like the constant back and forth is doing any good to his head.

“And you dare call me dramatic.” Connor gives a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

Gavin’s already regretting his decision. Must be a new record.

He walks into the apartment and sets Ada on the couch, giving her a quick pat on her head before heading for his bedroom. He should at least change into a new pair of clothes—he’s sweated enough into these ones as it is anyway.

“Close the door on your way in,” he calls when he hears Connor follow behind, “don’t touch anything.”

He slams the door shut before Connor can give a reply. Gavin sits on his bed and grabs his phone, unlocks it and begins typing.

**_Petty Bitch at 1:25PM_ **

_You know I don’t remember asking for R-dicK800 to come over_

**_Lesbian Queen at 1:26PM_ **

_Oh wow, he got there pretty fast!_

_Sorry! I couldn’t get a hold of Chris and he was there sooo..._

**_Petty Bitch at 1:27PM_ **

_So you sent a fucking nannybot after me?!!_

Gavin looks away from his phone to rummage through his drawers, until he finds a plain old shirt. By the time he puts it on, there’s a new notification waiting for him.

**_Lesbian Queen at 1:30PM_ **

_Oh so you’d rather I’ve sent Hank there?_

**_Petty Bitch at 1:30PM_ **

_I’d rather shoot myself in the balls_

**_Lesbian Queen at 1:31PM_ **

_Right and we all know just how *important* the integrity of your balls is to the future of Detroit. So you get Connor._

**_Petty Bitch at 1:31PM_ **

_I’m not putting up with that tincan_

**_Lesbian Queen at 1:32PM_ **

_Then you’ll have to wait for me to come by to put up with *you*_

**_Petty Bitch at 1:32PM_ **

_Bring it_

**_Lesbian Queen at 1:34PM_ **

_Look Gav just_

_just try not to kill each other. I’ll come back later k?_

**_Petty Bitch at 1:35PM_ **

_Bitch_

**_Lesbian Queen at 1:35PM_ **

_ <3 _

Gavin lets go of his phone and drops back on the bed with a groan. Not killing each other, right, should be easy enough. Dragging both hands across his face, he tells himself to get done with changing and see from there.

It takes him ages to find a pair of jeans.

Somewhere along the line, the nausea comes back.

When Gavin finally exits the room, Connor is crouching on his heels next to the couch. It takes Gavin a second to figure he's trying to coerce a very anxious cat out from under it. He can see Connor's hand coated in thirium.

So his little shit got the toaster good. Gavin couldn’t ask for a better cat, but he can hear Ada’s low hiss and it won’t be long before she decides to strike again.

“Hey, what did I say about touching?!” Gavin yells as he grabs Connor’s arm to pull him away.

“I remember you said not to touch anything, Detective. Last I checked animals are not considered objects.” Connor says with narrowed eyes, but goes along with Gavin, taking a step back. They both look down at the growling creak at the bottom of the couch, where a set of eyes peak back at them.

“She doesn’t seem to like me,” Connor says, sounding too disheartened for Gavin’s liking.

“No shit, would you like having a six feet giant harassing you?”

“I was just trying to pet her. I thought I could do the same I did with Sumo to gain her trust.” Connor cradles his hand closer, and Gavin sees how some patches of skin are gone, revealing superficial scratches.

“And that was mistake number one, asshole.”

Gavin drags Connor over to the kitchen just so Ada can stop hissing like a demonic beast. He tosses a napkin over at the android—doesn’t give a single fuck if Connor uses it or not to be honest. Gavin’s more worried about how his stomach is starting to churn again. He takes a seat, hoping to calm down the nausea.

He really, _really_ doesn’t want to throw up again.

A hand presses against his forehead. Gavin gives a slight flinch at the cold touch—thinks about moving back completely for a second—but the sensation feels heavenly on his warm skin. Forgetting who exactly that hand belongs to, Gavin leans into it and closes his eyes.

“Hmm, around ninety-nine degrees. A little warm but not enough to be severe,” he hears Connor say and, like that, those words burst through the bubble like a needle.

Gavin swats the hand away.

“Don’t touch me.” He drops his head on the table and runs both hands through his hair.

“Have you had any symptoms that could be alarming?” Connor asks.

Gavin’s voice comes a bit muffled when he answers.

“Besides puking my guts out and feeling like hell you mean?”

Connor lets out an exasperated sigh and walks deeper into the kitchen. Gavin hears cabinets opening—he’d tell the toaster to fuck off but frankly, he’s too tired.

He’s on the edge of falling asleep when a glass hitting the table distracts him enough to look up.

“Drink,” Connor says and pushes the glass closer, “you should try to keep yourself hydrated.”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.” Gavin grunts, staring at the glass like the thing’s poison.

“Try taking small sips.”

Gavin wants to argue further, but he knows deep down that the tin can's right. He hasn’t drank anything since yesterday. He’s sure his headaches could partly relate to that—the other offender being the lack of caffeine in his system.

He manages to down half of the glass before his stomach gives him the middle finger. Setting it down he utters a quiet “I’m done” and gets off the table. Fucking pathetic, but at least it’s enough to make Connor back off.

Gavin goes into the living room to lay down on the couch.

He’s not in the mood to watch TV. Frankly, at this point he’s all in for taking another nap, even with Connor around. Rain pelts down on the window, creating a nice lull for Gavin to listen to. He snaps his fingers close to the ground to persuade Ada out from beneath the couch and brings her on top of it.

“I’ll stay until the storm calms down, if it’s not a problem.” Connor offers from the door, keeping his distance this time. Definitely trying to gain some points with the cat rather than with him, if Gavin has to bet.

“Whatever,” Gavin replies, not paying much attention. Connor retreats back into the kitchen, allowing Gavin to relax into the seat cushions.

* * *

Gavin wakes up with a start to Ada sinking her claws into his chest. He barely stops himself from rolling into the floor in his frenzy.

“Son of a bitch!” Trying to get the cat off only earns Gavin his hand getting nipped at—not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to be painful. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles, the last bit of sleep still clinging to his voice.

Putting one hand on the arm rest of the couch, Gavin sits up. Almost immediately he has Ada meowing at him and pawing at his arms, acting like she’s starved. So given he’s not getting any peace soon, he begrudgingly gets off the couch.

“Hmm yeah, I hear you, you greedy little bitch.” As Ada jumps down to continue the abuse to his ear, Gavin remembers he’s not alone. “Connor?”

No response.

“Hey, tin-can?” he calls again.

Gavin looks around the living room, soon going into the kitchen. He calls out one last time, but Connor’s nowhere to be seen. Something sour sticks to the back of his throat when he realizes he’s alone but he chalks it up to his sickness, because what else could it be? He’s back to being on his own and that’s nothing new for him.

Nothing he’s not grown used to by now.

So Gavin focuses on getting the bag of cat food from one of the cabinets. Ada dives in the moment she hears it clattering into her bowl, finally earning some peace back in here.

Gavin doesn’t feel like moving into the bathroom, he decides to wash his face on the sink to save time. He blindly feels around for a tablecloth once he’s done, and as he glances out the kitchen window, he sees that the rain is no longer hitting on the glass. It suddenly hits him.

“Right... right,” he mutters to himself. Connor said he’d be gone once the storm was over.

There’s a plate with toasts and a glass of water set by the counter. Gavin almost misses the little card slipped under the ceramic when he goes to take them. He recognizes the writing instantly as Tina's. Apparently, she came to visit while he was dead in his sleep.

_Hey Gav!_

_Connor let me in. Saw you were dead to the world so didn’t want to wake you. We made some plain toast for you to try. Hope you can stomach them._

_-T_

What really surprises Gavin however, it’s the sentence scribbled further down in a perfect Cyberlife font.

_Get well soon._

It feels so odd, how he can hear Connor’s voice saying those words to him. He doesn’t know whether to feel angry or...or somewhat grateful for the gesture. 

So he does neither, and drops the card back on the counter before taking both plate and glass with him to the living room. He’s half-way through eating his second piece of toast when he picks up his phone and finds a couple of unread messages from Tina.

**_Lesbian Queen at 5:07PM_ **

_Hey, still alive in there?_

**_Lesbian Queen at 5:15PM_ **

_How was your beauty sleep?_

It’s almost seven now.

He’s about to answer when another text pops up, again asking how he is. Gavin doesn’t even think twice about it and presses the call button instinctively.

“You forgot to feed Ada,” is the first thing Gavin says when he hears Tina pick up.

“Praise the sun, he lives!” Comes the cheerful response form the other end. He relaxes back into his seat, and only then realizes just how tense his body had been moments before.

“Barely.”

“How have you been feeling?”

“Been better,” Gavin says while turning the TV on and running through some channels, “ate some of the toast and haven’t thrown up yet.”

“Well, that’s progress at least.”

Gavin can’t help but snort.

“Some progress. I still feel like a Semi ran me over.”

The line grows quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry, Gav. I wouldn’t have taken you out if I knew this would happen.” The regret in Tina’s voice is fucking palpable. Gavin can tell she probably beat herself over it all afternoon.

“Don’t fucking sweat it. I got out of doing paperwork for a day.”

“Of course you’d think of it that way,” Tina says, sounding a bit happier this time, a bit less worried. “Think you’ll be good to come back to work soon then?”

Gavin thinks the question over before answering. Besides the general tiredness, he’s not feeling _as_ awful as he did before. It might even fade away completely with a few more hours of rest under his belt. He’d rather not be stuck another day in his apartment if he can help it.

So, he gambles.

“Definitely,” he says, “in fact, I bet you it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Narrator voice: it was not gone by tomorrow.]
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> You can find me and other dbh fans in the [New ERA server](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm)


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